Strange Feelings
Carlyle Schultz had an unexpectedly diligent side. He was the academy's infamous playboy, a free spirit who never hesitated to show up late, but he had his own standards. He never skipped class outright. Even if he was a bit late in the morning, he always made it. And at lunchtime, he always played a game of basketball, drawing the unwavering gazes and attention of countless girls in the process. That was part of his routine too. Anyway.
After that, Carlyle always took a nap—his private sanctuary being none other than the academy rooftop. He liked sleeping when the weather was mild and a gentle breeze blew. Once the afternoon bell rang while he napped just right, he'd head to class, and after classes ended, off to his part-time job. That was the routine. Or had been.
"……."
Lately, Carlyle Schultz's routine had been disrupted. And all because of one person he'd met just days ago. Ever since the first day of the semester.
Staring at the dim outside view, Carlyle furrowed his brow. Damn, she might be late. He had to get to his part-time gig. It was probably fallout from that morning incident in the nurse's office. He'd definitely felt a bit fatigued afterward. Had he been slacking on workouts lately? Nah, that didn't feel right. Low stamina? He was still young. Only one answer fit: he'd gotten too caught up in her.
Yeah, that's it. He and Bianca Shama just clicked so perfectly. For the first time, Carlyle realized how special it could be to share his body with a woman. He threw himself into it so completely that only afterward did he notice: it wasn't just about his own pleasure. Watching her unravel was thrilling too. Deeply satisfying. And beyond the physical ecstasy, there was something fuller—some emotional stability that was hard to put into words.
Do I like Bianca Shama? A question to himself. He couldn't say for sure yet. But probably, Carlyle thought after a moment. He couldn't be certain because he'd never actually liked anyone before. Still, Carlyle Schultz had been in a pretty good mood lately. Good enough to entertain these thoughts positively.
He fired off a text using the number he'd gotten that morning. How'd he get it? While she was lying there exhausted, he'd handled almost all the cleanup in the nurse's office by himself. Used that as leverage.
[Why... do you... have my number...!]
She'd protested at first, so he'd shut her up with a kiss. The second time, she'd nearly pushed him too far again, but he'd managed to pull back.
After a brief hesitation—since he was already late for work anyway—Carlyle sent another. Something told him to be bold with Bianca. If she wasn't into it or the timing was off, she'd say no anyway. That sharp, prickly face of hers, her snappy attitude—it kept nagging at him. Carlyle couldn't make sense of himself. Still, he waited patiently for a reply. None came, of course. But Carlyle Schultz wasn't the type to get impatient or disappointed over it.
She's... so damn cute. If anything, her standoffishness charmed him. She clung to him desperately in bed, moaning with delight, yet ignored his texts? Adorably infuriating. Maybe he was lovesick, but he chuckled to himself before getting up.
He sent one more, then headed to work. Even there, he couldn't focus. Bianca Shama was on his mind. Half-hoping for a reply. It was just a simple bar gig, so a wandering mind didn't cause much trouble.
"Good work, Carlyle."
His shift ended, and on the way back, Carlyle spotted her purely by chance. Bianca Shama, the one occupying all his thoughts lately. In casual clothes he'd never seen her in before, he was speechless. Petite, pale, delicate. His tastes seemed to be shifting. He'd always gone for tall, mature women. But now, her gaze stole his. Sure, she'd been in casuals when they first met, but this was clearly more put-together: gray checkered skirt, ivory knit top. The shoes were a bit odd—men's sneakers?—but not a dealbreaker.
Finding Vita was sheer coincidence. But why did her dainty features look so pissed off, brimming with irritation? He paused. Just as he moved to call out—
Whoosh—
Some guy he didn't know grabbed Bianca's arm and shoved her toward the alley. Carlyle nearly launched himself reflexively but approached calmly instead. He needed to assess.
And when anxiety flickered in those fierce amethyst eyes... Carlyle was already moving without hesitation.
And that's how this happened.
"Who the hell are you?" Carlyle growled low.
"Who're you?"
It didn't take long to size up the situation. But when those frightened amethyst eyes met his and softened with relief, joy surged through Carlyle—followed by cold rage draining the blood from his head. She struggled against the guy.
"What the—fuck off!"
Carlyle tightened his grip on the collar, yanking upward.
"Explain what you just did to her. Go on."
He was pissed. Furious at the guy, and at himself for staying calm. If he'd judged faster, rushed right in... He could've stopped her from hitting the wall. His brain had frozen for a second. The moment a stranger approached Bianca Shama, doubts and emotions had stalled him.
Crunch—
So Carlyle Schultz squeezed harder.
"Let go, you—! You know who I am?"
The guy could fight back if he wanted. But Carlyle's intensity crushed him. Classic bully: weak against the strong, strong against the weak. Scum like this always sized up quick.
Carlyle shot back coldly. "And what if I do?"
He'd dealt with punks like this plenty. "Don't care who you are."
Drunken lowlifes strutting like they owned the place—he'd seen it all at the bar.
"If you're so tough, say it."
Carlyle leaned in, golden eyes like a predator eyeing prey.
Right then, Nathan Jackal—collar gripped—instinctively knew: This guy's insane... He'd drawn a lunatic. He thrashed, but it was futile. Speak up, and he'd eat a fist. Criteria be damned. Sometimes a glare said more than words. This guy was ready to beat him dead.
And yeah—that ash-gray hair, golden eyes. Aura far from ordinary. Nathan knew a famous face with those traits.
No way... Carlyle Schultz?
A guy from another academy, but infamous by rumor. Nathan's legs buckled; he went mute. Psychos like this saw red and nothing else.
Thwack—
A fist slammed into Nathan's face.
"No excuses? Then take the hit."
Soul-shaking impact. Literal daze.
"One. Punch."
"Guh... hack..."
Even fighting back, he'd have lost bad, Nathan realized. This bastard hits like a truck.
"S-sorry. My bad, all mine..."
His jaw felt unhinged.
"Not hard enough? I'll ramp it up."
No questions asked. Nathan flinched, opening his throbbing mouth.
"...O-one...!"
Humiliating, but terror won. Then, to the cowering Nathan:
"And apologize to her, not me."
Two.
Thud—
Vision shook violently. Nathan couldn't finish before collapsing.
Thud—
"Two..."
He tried to say it, but stars exploded in his vision. Dazed, Nathan's consciousness faded.
"Stop, Carlyle...!"
A startled woman's voice. As he fell, Nathan inwardly cursed her. Fuck... block sooner. At least one less punch. Silver lining—until yanked up again.
Thud—
"Three."
"Grahk—!"
Nathan's pupils dilated; warmth spread down his pants. He crumpled.
Thump—
Carlyle didn't spare the fallen Nathan a glance, turning to Bianca and pulling her into his arms.
"You okay...?"
His voice rumbled low. His embrace felt oddly warm. But the dramatic shift stunned her more.
This guy's punches pack a wallop...
Not scared, of course! Ahem. Anyway, that's why he was her rival. Bianca admitted she was a bit shocked.
Thwack— Thwack—
Nathan was the one hit, but it felt like she was taking them.
"I thought you were gonna kill him!"
Carlyle smirked at her outburst. Off-topic, but the guy seemed fine.
"Don't worry. He won't die from that."
"How do you know?"
"I have my ways."
Playful banter amid the tension. But it had been serious moments ago.
"Seriously, you good?"
Carlyle asked again. Bianca nodded.
"Nothing happened."
Not thanks to you. The last part stayed internal. She could've handled it without him. Or so she told herself. But that helplessness earlier...
No, pointless.
She shook it off. Didn't want to name the feeling. Anyway, she was grateful this time. Though her words said otherwise.
"I could've handled it myself."
"Yeah? Probably."
Surprisingly agreeable. "You could've."
His serious golden eyes locked on hers.
"Still, call me if you're ever late again. I'll come running."
Bianca felt weird.
Why you, specifically?
Why call you?
Questions swirled, but voicing them felt off in the mood. It flowed so naturally, yet now it bugged her. Carlyle Schultz holding her close, not letting go. Why did this bother her? It wasn't unpleasant. What was the reason? Nathan's touch had disgusted her. But why not his? She pondered, no answer.
Lost in that strange haze, Bianca let Carlyle lead her. Their hands linked somehow.
"C'mon, Bianca."
She startled, tugging free—but his grip held firm. Misreading, he pulled her closer, stroking her hair gently.
"Just follow."
"W-where to...?"
"You'll see."
Stammering, hand in hand, trapped in the vibe, Bianca followed.
What's he scheming now?
Even that thought felt off. The situation was just too bizarre. But not bad bizarre.
Bianca really thought it was strange. Indescribably so.